


The Bullet You Don't See

by oceanofcreepy



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: F/F, Fingering, Manipulative!Abigail, Oral Sex, Sort of PWP, dark!Abigail, the abigail in this story is a lot darker than what we see in canon, this is not even remotely romantic just smutty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-12
Updated: 2013-07-12
Packaged: 2017-12-19 05:15:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/879867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oceanofcreepy/pseuds/oceanofcreepy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Abigail wants to make sure Alana won’t suspect she killed Nick Boyle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Bullet You Don't See

Alana is furious. Furious with Jack and with herself. She’s struggling to maintain her normally professional demeanor in front of her trauma patient. Abigail and Alana are walking away from Nick Boyle’s body, out of the FBI building and back to Alana’s car so she can drive them to Abigail’s temporary home at the psychiatric ward. Abigail has a head start on her and she’s walking at a brisk pace in order to put distance between herself and the body.

 

Alana knew Abigail could not possibly be capable of murdering that boy or anyone. She felt like screaming if it could make Jack stop suspecting Abigail of the murders. Of course she could see Abigail’s ability to manipulate by carefully revealing only what feelings she wanted to, when she wanted to. But she also saw how Abigail was undergoing massive amounts of trauma from the ordeal her father put her through and for Jack to force a traumatized patient to look at a decaying _corpse._ Alana feared how much this would set back Abigail’s treatment. And worst part of it all was that Alana felt like she had failed in her duty to protect her young patient from further trauma.

 

As the two of them get into Alana’s car she flicks her eyes over to give Abigail a searching look. Trying to assess what this may have done, is currently doing, to Abigail. Until now Abigail had been walking ahead of her and kept her face hidden. Alana is devastated once she finally glimpses it. Her eyes are rimmed with red and wide as moons as though she’s is holding back tears. Feeling disappointed with herself she starts the ignition and begins to drive.

 

Abigail is suppressing a sob. The emotions she feels from seeing the body are genuine. She knows displays of tears are necessary—to look too unaffected would look too suspicious, but she finds that she doesn’t need to fake these tears. In reality she does feel guilty over Nick Boyle’s death. Abigail wasn’t able to honor any part of him…

 

She’s still not sure how she feels about the girls. With them it was an entirely different thing. Her father encouraged her not to think that what she did was murder so long as every part of them was honored. Hannibal on the other hand had flatly told her that what she had done to Nick Boyle was murder. She felt coerced into hunting those girls. She still wasn’t sure if she really was a murderer.

 

Despite the coercion however, it was also sometimes thrilling.

 

She would run into girls who looked similar to her on college tours and train rides to different campuses. She would befriend them, lure them, like her father wanted. But she didn’t always stop there.

 

Some of them already knew they were attracted to women. Others were still experimenting with their sexuality and were open to Abigail’s sexual advances. She was a visiting high school senior and a coquettish flirt. She was the perfect choice for girls who wanted a lesbian experience with a pretty girl that came with no strings attached.

 

Abigail was a hunter. And she was itching to hunt again. If Alana were her age Abigail imagines that she would actually look rather similar to her with her brown hair, pale skin and slender limbs. Exactly the kind of girl she’d hunt for.

 

Now that’s a thought.

 

“Alana?” Abigail gives her head a forlorn tilt.

 

“Yes?” Alana answers, brow screwed up with concern.

 

“I don’t know if I can handle being alone tonight. That body…” Her voice trails off and once again Abigail suppressed tears, her eyes looking redder than ever.

 

At first Alana isn’t sure how to respond in a way that would help her patient while making sure to keep their relationship professional. But she was determined to reach out to Abigail in her own way. “How about I stay with you in your room until you can sleep?”

 

Abigail has to suppress not tears, but a small smile, at this. To keep from giving herself away she shifts her gaze to her lap where she tightly grips her hands. “I think that will help.”

 

They’ve arrived back at the ward and after checking in and explaining the situation at the front desk, the two of them settle into Abigail’s room. There’s a chair next to the bed and Alana awkwardly decides to sit there while Abigail gathers her sleeping clothes and takes them into her bathroom to change.

 

Abigail intentionally leaves the bathroom door slightly ajar. She subtly looks to make sure that she’s visible from Alana’s position in the chair. And then she slowly undresses. Abigail makes sure to look like she’s unaware of Alana’s vantage point and subtly peeks through her lashes to see if Alana notices her.

 

_Easy does it. Don’t spoil the game._ Her hunter’s instincts are kicking in. The bullet the prey never sees coming is the one most likely to make its mark.

 

Alana was pointedly staring at the wall. Pointedly. Deliberately. She was boring her eyes into the wall across from her. Of course she could see slivers of Abigail’s body framed in the slightly open door. But Alana was never the type to take advantage of a patient. Instead she sits patiently and slightly tenses her lips.

 

The door opens once she’s changed. Abigail steps out and is standing across the room. Her breaths are deep, her chest rises and falls. And before Alana can make sense of her emotional state, tears tumble down Abigail’s cheek. Immediately Alana is crossing the room to Abigail.

 

“What’s wrong?” Alana says with alarm in her voice, surprised at the sudden outburst of tears.

 

Between sobs Abigail gasps out, “This whole place, this whole situation is just—getting to me.” She has to pause to swallow a sob rising out of her chest. “My parents are dead. I’m living in a place for crazies. Jack thinks I murdered Nick Boyle. And I miss my girlfriend back in Minnesota.” That last part was a lie but she carefully gauged Alana’s reaction to her Sapphic confession.

 

_She misses her girlfriend?_ Alana wasn’t sure what to make of this admission. Abigail had a talent for revealing only as much as she wanted to. And indeed she only revealed something if it was to her advantage. _But being careful with what information you reveal to the point of manipulation certainly did not mean that there wasn’t true suffering being experienced by the patient._ Alana reminded herself.

 

“If you like I can speak with the ward directors and see if they can let you call her.”

 

Abigail hung her head. “I’m afraid to call her” she said dejectedly. “I haven’t spoken to her since.” She paused. “It happened. I don’t think she’ll want to talk to me again.”

 

“Ah, I see. Losing a relationship hurts. There’s really no way of getting around that, but it might be necessary.” Alana places a hand on Abigail’s shoulder and offers her a nonjudgmental smile. “Think about it, how much energy can you afford to put into your relationship right now? It might be wise to focus on yourself rather than someone else until you get better.”

 

Abigail grasps Alana’s hand from where it rests on her shoulder and looks into her eyes. “I really miss her. She makes me feel so safe when I’m with her.”

 

Alana feels strange at the touch combined with Abigail’s hungry and not quite innocent look. But she’s afraid to pull her hand away at this critical moment. Taking her hand back might be interpreted by Abigail as abandonment and rejection so she allows Abigail to continue grasping her hand.

 

But then Abigail decides to up the ante. Abigail takes Alana’s hand and places it on her waist. Even though she applied the touch herself she can’t help but let out a subtle shiver at the contact. The only problem was that now she wanted more.

 

The girl’s eyes are wide and forlorn, clearly broadcasting her distress, until she softly shuts them and slowly leans in to place a shy kiss on Alana’s lips. As their lips gradually part, Abigail feels Alana draw in a shallow breath that vibrates with a shiver of her own.

 

_Oh fuck I-_ Her psychiatrists’ mind is swimming. She is surprised and ashamed to feel a touch of warmth gather between her thighs. Despite her girlish looks and coy attitude Abigail was an adult. _And a victim of trauma. I must remember._

Abigail doesn’t immediately look into Alana’s eyes after ending the kiss. Keeping her gaze demurely pointed downwards she meekly asks “…could you touch me more?” Immediately after asking she looks imploringly into Alana’s eyes. Relieved to see no disgust or fear, signs that her hunt would have to be ended early. In fact she detects the hint of heavy lidded fog in Alana’s eyes giving away her interest. Abigail wonders if Alana has kissed another woman before, her reaction suggested that she at least found the idea arousing. The thought of Alana kissing, maybe fucking, another woman makes her nipples feel taut and sensitive. She doesn’t want to wait any longer. She pulls off her pajama top exposing the delicious blush covering her breasts before her prey has time to react.  

 

Alana’s aghast at what Abigail has done. She tries to salvage what remains of her professional patient-doctor relationship. “A-Abigail, you miss your girlfriend. I’m sure you miss being intimate with her. But we can’t do this. It’s inappropriate and must end. _Now_.” Pressing her hands against Abigail’s shoulders she pushes her to put distance between them and starts to back away.

 

Despite being pushed away Abigail still tries to come closer to Alana. When Alana starts to make for the door Abigail bites her lip before saying, “Stay. Please stay.” She gulped and then it all came out of her in a rush, “If you go I won’t have anyone to help with the nightmares. I don’t have anyone else! My parents are gone! You’re the only person here that wasn’t there when they died. You’re the only one here that doesn’t think I’m a murder. You’re the only one who doesn’t just want to use me for their book. _Please._ ”

 

Abigail is surprised by her admission. _I didn’t mean to reveal that much. I just really don’t want the hunt to be over._ It was true however, that she felt lonely. Will had reached out to her, but she couldn’t bring herself to want to be friends with her father’s killer. Even if her father was a murder and probably deserved death. A reporter who only wanted to be around her insofar as she could give her a story to tell and a psychiatrist with shadowy motives who encouraged her to do illegal drugs were also sorry excuses for real friends.

 

Abigail’s begging stops Alana short. Suddenly she feels guilty for pushing her away. She had said that she was determined to reach out to Abigail in her own way and what was she doing? Exactly the opposite. _She’s still afraid of being “messed up”. What she needs is compassion, not distance._ Before she has time to continue into a downward spiral of mental self flagellation for pushing away a patient she becomes acutely aware of something.

 

_She’s still standing there without a shirt._

She catches herself staring at Abigail’s pale nipples and her cheeks prickle with heat. Warmth continues to pool at the apex of her thighs at the sight. It had been too long since Alana last slept with someone. There was always something in the way. She was ashamed to admit that she was attracted to one of her students.

 

She had had a tall, curvy body and a deep throaty laugh when she talked about her misadventures with fellow students before class began. Alana never acted on her desire because of their student/teacher relationship. Instead she merely thought of her mouth and what it would be like to touch her thighs on nights when she would slip her fingers beneath her covers. The only other romantic prospect in her life was Will. Between their academic relationship and his more serious issue of needing psychological help. He also was not a viable option for the foreseeable future. She seemed to have the worst luck in who she gave her affections to and this had left her frustrated and sexless for over a year.

 

Abigail catches the direction of Alana’s gaze and decides now is the time to stop stalking the game and reach for her gun. Almost boldly she walks forward, places her thin hands on either side of Alana’s head and takes her lips. This time making her hunger apparent in how she pressed her lips to Alana’s. Running her fingers through Alana’s hair she appreciates the feel of it the way she would a deer pelt. Then she takes the kiss further. Her tongue touches Alana’s smooth teeth then maneuvers to flick against Alana’s tongue. Abigail only takes out her gun if she’s prepared to shoot it.

 

This whole time Alana has not touched her. Her hands lay restlessly by her sides. _Let’s give them something to do._ She grasps them and yanks them so that Alana’s palms are covering her nipples. She has small breasts, there isn’t much to grasp, but she still gets a jolt of pleasure when she feels Alana circling her nipples with her finger tips.

 

Abigail starts hooking her fingers into the intersection of Alana’s wrap dress. Alana’s favorite item of clothing was the kind of thing that was so easy to remove. It doesn’t take much to have the dress opening up like a robe and Abigail halts her kissing to be able to look down and gaze at Alana’s body.

 

 She’s not surprised by the matching white bra and panties. Alana seemed too firmly entrenched in her professional and academic life to be the sort to think about fancy underwear. But she was surprised by the tattoo, the Greek character “psi” on her hip. Noticing the glance Alana explained, “Got it the day after getting my psychiatry doctorate. Drank way too many beers and thought it would be a good idea to get a tattoo.”

 

“So you do have an uninhibited side.” Abigail giggles at the story and reaches around Alana’s ribcage to unhook her bra. She revels in Alana’s curving, womanly breasts. Those other girls looked so much like her; they also had small breasts so Abigail never got to enjoy a fuller pair. Pushing Alana onto her hospital bed she straddles her hips even though she is still wearing her pajama bottoms. The tips of Alana’s breasts, soft beige, were hard and Abigail was keen to taste them.

 

She takes one nipple into her mouth. The other she takes into her hand and uses her fingers to knead and roll the nipple. While sucking and pinching she can hear Alana’s sharp intake of air and low keening sounds. Hearing it starts an ache inside of her.

 

Snaking a hand down Alana’s belly, under the hem of her panties, Abigail feels the gently curled hair at the top of her mound and then delves deeper. A wicked smile passes over her lips when she finds Alana’s wetness. Using her index and middle finger she splays her lips apart to more easily find her clitoris. She rubs on the sensitized flesh for a bit while watching Alana arch her back involuntarily at each stroke before pulling the underwear down Alana’s legs till it was pooled around one ankle. Alana knows she should probably put a stop to this, but the unwanted celibacy she had been experiencing kept her from following through. She can’t help but ride wave of the sensations and feel desperate for more.  

 

It had been too long since Abigail had tasted cunt. Eating was one of her favorite things to do and she had been told she did it well. She used her thumbs to part her lips. Alana was lovely, small lipped and dark pink with her growing desire. She gently nibbled on the soft skin of her inner thigh. Abigail tenderly biting the skin, releasing and then applying sucking kisses to the sensitive spots. Alana twitched her hips at the teasing bites, but Abigail didn’t let up until Alana’s cunt had a veil of sheen.

 

Finally Abigail decides to give her what she wants. Sucking and then licking her clitoris broadly with her tongue and then sucking again. For the first time Alana cries out from _good_ it all feels. Even with her mouth on Alana’s cunt Abigail smirks knowing she has the power to manipulate Alana’s body. She’s glad Alana can’t see it.

 

Using one finger Abigail teases and prods her opening and feeling her finger grow slick. When the tenor of Alana’s cries becomes more strained she dips her fingers inside and curls them upward even as Alana clenches down harshly on her fingers. It’s quick work now. Alana grasps her own mouth to keep from screaming as her orgasm rushes out of her.

 

Once Alana is laying still and panting Abigail lifts her head. Her lips are swollen and cherry red from the work they’ve performed. Her own cunt is aching and she’s completely soaked her underwear, but pursuing her own physical pleasure is beside the point. She’s feeling the sense of accomplishment and slight euphoria she gets after a good hunt has met a satisfying conclusion. At first seeing the light of life leave the eyes of a deer after the final, fatal shot made her sad. She always honored her prey, but the feeling of power she got from hunting and manipulating those girls started to be its own sweet pleasure.

 

“Thank you for staying with me tonight. I don’t have as many nightmares when I’m not alone.” Alana’s heart breaks just a little that Abigail would be so grateful just to have her here. Abigail crawls up to lay in the crook of Alana’s arm. Without even needing to think about it, as though comforting some small, broken thing, Alana puts her arm around Abigail’s small shoulders and pulls her in close. “Oh Abigail. I promise you things will get better. You’ll start a new life and you’ll make new friends. You’ll never be like your father.” Abigail presses her head closer towards Alana’s neck and her lips curve up into a slow smile.

 

Abigail never takes out her gun unless she is prepared to shoot it. And this bullet has hit its mark.

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
